Chapter One

Aiden

There’s nothing quite like sleeping on Victorian furniture, and it damned sure wasn’t built for a situation as informal as passing out drunk. I woke up with a splitting headache and a crick in my neck, but worse than that, I wasn’t alone. There was movement from the other side of the room.

I opened my eyes with a wince, then adjusted my lids to slits so I could peek out and see who was there with me. I didn’t remember picking up anyone from the bar, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d brought home a woman and forgotten about it.

“Well, Aiden Joseph Walker, it’s about time you wake up.” The familiar voice made me cringe, as did the use of my full name. A grown man of nearly thirty should never be called by his full name, and only two people had ever done so in my life as far as I could recall. One was my mother, who’d been dead for over a year, and the other was Mattie Johnson, our family housekeeper who had mothered me alongside Mom my entire life.

“I was beginning to think you were dead. Lord knows there’s something dead in this house. Smells like it, anyway.” She waved her cleaning rag through the air and then turned to wipe down the family clock that hadn’t had the correct time since I was twelve and pulled the pendulum too hard. Mattie had tanned my ass, and Mom had let her.

The only thing dead in the house was my sense of humor. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere spending the insane retirement fund I paid you to leave me the hell alone?”

“You shut your mouth. I don’t work for you anymore, and Lord knows why I bothered coming here, but I won’t have you disrespecting me.” The crack of the dishtowel popped about two inches from my ass before she turned around and went right back to wiping down the things around me. The smell of a chicken boiling set my mouth to watering, but I wished she hadn’t done that. My appetite wasn’t what it used to be.

I sat up and wiped my eyes and scrubbed my fingers through my thick beard, giving it a scratch. “I don’t understand what’s so hard about respecting my wishes.”

“Your wishes are getting out of hand. Look at this place, Aiden. It’s a pig sty. You might want to grow your hair and beard to look like you haven’t got two pennies to rub together, but this home needs attention, whether you like it or not. The grass is knee deep, and there’s a good year’s worth of overgrowth out on the hedges.”

“Yes, and that’s because when I gave the gardener his payoff, he left and had the good graces not to come back.”

“So that’s it, you want to sit up in here and let this place crumble around you? I’ve sat on my hands for too long, boy. If your parents could roll over in their graves, the ground would be shaking just knowing how you’re handling things around here. Your mother would take a razor to that face in your sleep and your father — he’d be damned embarrassed of you.” I pegged her with a hard glare, but she held her chin up defiantly.

“Well, you can stop worrying. They won’t be anything. They’re dead.” They’d died fourteen months ago in a tragic plane crash along with my sister, Ally and her boyfriend, Shawn Patterson. I hadn’t handled things well since then.

“Boy, to hear you talk. I’m glad I don’t have to stick around and hear it.” She shook her head and kept on cleaning.

“So does that mean you’re leaving?” I patted down my pockets until I found my wallet and the key to my bike.

“I’ll be leaving when I get this living room cleaned up. I made a good dent in the kitchen already, though I’m going to work on throwing out those science experiments you’ve got growing in the fridge. You’re going to end up in the hospital if you eat that food.”

“I’m not eating any of it.” My keys jingled in my hand as I opened my wallet and thumbed through my bills.

She turned and shook her rag at me. “Damn right, you’re not. I’m boiling some chickens now. I’m going to fix up some of my chicken noodle you used to love so much as a child.”

“It’s really not necessary, Mattie.” I stared into her dark eyes as she narrowed them at me.

“I know what’s necessary and what’s not, but you’ll be thanking me when you’ve got a full stomach. You look like you’ve lost a bit of your bulk.”

I hadn’t lost that much, but she was right. I’d been much bulkier before the accident and hadn’t cared much about myself since. Going to the gym hadn’t been en route of my destructive life’s path, but I certainly hadn’t withered away. I glanced down to my abs and was thankful they were still defined, although not as prominent as before.

“You don’t have to do anything, much less clean up.”

Tags: Claire Adams Billionaire Romance
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